


Burning Shadows and Shallow Graves

by A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8278006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight/pseuds/A_Lily_In_The_Moonlight
Summary: In a world where the war is never far from people's minds, who died is not who you think and neither are those who will save the day.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Additionally: this work is also dedicated to my brother, who was my first reader and first fan, and my dear dear friend Sandgi doesn’t even read fanfics, but has read mine because he’s a sweetheart. Thank you babes <3
> 
> Comments and (constructive) criticism are super welcome! English isn't my first language so it's likely I've made a few mistakes. Don't hesitate to point them out, I'll correct them asap.
> 
> I'm so excited to start this journey! I've been working on this fanfiction for a very long time now, although most of the work was in my head. Now that I am actually writing, I am simply overjoyed to be able to share it with you guys. I really hope you like the idea and stick around!
> 
> Thank you for your time and enjoy!

                “GRYFFINDOR!”

                His ears still ringing from the shout, Neville got up, a little dazed. On the far left, the table in red and gold was cheering loudly, and a blush coloured his cheeks. There was a hint of regret in his throat as he passed the Hufflepuff table, but the enthusiasm his new House showed was contagious, and he found himself grinning at the thought of how proud of him his family would be when they learnt the news.

                He almost tripped over his own feet when an amused voice echoed in his head.

                “Ahem,” the Hat said. “Forgot something?”

                The boy stopped dead in his tracks, his face slowly turning beetle red as he realized he’d forgotten to take the Sorting Hat off. The cheering and laughter got louder, and he nearly ran back to McGonagall, who was watching him with mild amusement, the next student waiting impatiently beside her. He mumbled an apology, his face warm with embarrassment and quickly walked back to the Gryffindor table, head down to try and avoid further ridicule. He glanced around covertly, searching for a known face – preferably Hermione Granger’s. He finally found the girl waving at him from a bench and felt his face turn a lighter shade of red as he sat down next to her. The attention was focusing back on the Sorting already, and as the stares left him to focus back on the next student, he allowed himself to relax.

                “Welcome to Gryffindor!” she exclaimed brightly, followed in that claim by some of the surrounding students. “I’m so glad we get to be in the same House!”

                “So am I,” he smiled, a bit shyly.

                Some of his classmates were still glancing at him, and his face didn’t feel like it had quite returned to its normal colour yet, but he tried to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony. Immediately after the boy Neville had handed the Hat to, Draco Malfoy’s name was called. He walked up smugly to the Hat, and got himself sent to Slytherin before it'd even touched his head. On the other side of the Hall, the green and silver table erupted in cheers, and the pale boy walked to it with a little too much pride in his stance for Neville’s taste. He remembered his grandmother’s sneer earlier that day, when she’d come face to face with his mother. The woman had had the same aristocratic posture as her son, and the air of someone who didn’t believe the present company was worthy of her attention.

                He turned his head back to McGonagall.

                A few names later, unsurprisingly, Harry Potter was sent to Gryffindor. Neville cheered as loudly as his new Housemates when the raven-haired boy came to sit at their table and two red-headed twins who looked so much like Harry’s friend they could only be his older brothers, jumped to their feet and started chanting “We got Potter” – Neville couldn’t help grinning at the sight. At his side, Hermione was rolling her eyes, but even she couldn’t help looking slightly entertained.

                Dean Thomas was the next student to be sent to Gryffindor, and he beamed at Neville and Hermione as he sat down next to them. He had to elbow them both so that they would stop clapping, but he looked as pleased as they were to be reunited already.

                It took a while longer for McGonagall to get to the end of the list, but finally, Ronald Weasley’s name was called. The boy looked almost more nervous than Neville had been, but it took little more time for the Sorting Hat to make its decision than it had for Malfoy:

                “GRYFFINDOR!”

                The tall ginger boy rushed to the table and sat down next to Harry, who congratulated him along with his older brothers. The last student was sent to Slytherin, and Albus Dumbledore stood up to welcome them and make a speech. It was one of the shorter and most bizarre speech Neville had had the opportunity to hear but, only partly listening, Neville surveyed the High Table, trying to guess who was who. Most teachers were easily identifiable from the pictures he’d seen of his parents’ photo albums, but on the right end, an unfamiliar wizard with black hair and a hooked nose was staring straight at him.

                An unfamiliar burning sensation erupted on his forehead, and – “ _Ouch!_ ” – Neville Longbottom clapped his hand to his scar.


	2. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, feel free to point out any mistake! Since this is a much longer work than what I am used to writing, I'm sure a lot of them must have sneaked past me.
> 
> You may find that the first passage is basically copied from HP and the Philosopher's Stone - my only excuse is that there is no way I can describe this as well as Joanne did! The rest, though, is completely mine. I hope you like it! Enjoy!

*** A few hours earlier ***

 

                “-- packed with Muggles, of course --”

                Harry swung around. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry’s in front of him – and they had an _owl_.

                Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them. They stopped and so did he, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

                “Now, what’s the platform number?” said the boys’ mother.

                Harry arched an eyebrow. How did she not know the platform, since quite obviously her sons were going to board on the Hogwarts’ Express? And three of them looked old enough to have been students at Hogwarts for at least a couple of years already.

                “Nine and three-quarters!” piped a small girl, also red-head, who was holding her hand. “Mom, can’t I go…”

                “You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first.”

                What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it – but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

                “Fred, you next,” the plump woman said.

                “I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said the boy. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you tell I’m George?”

                Harry couldn’t help grinning at the boy’s comeback.

                “Sorry, George, dear,” the woman answered, looking more tired than apologetic.

                “Only joking, I am Fred,” said the boy, and his mother only shook her head, as Harry’s grin widened, watching the boy like a hawk. His twin called after him to hurry, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone – but how had he done it?

                Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier. He was almost there – and then, quite suddenly, he wasn’t anywhere.

                There was nothing else for it.

                “Excuse me,” Harry said to the plump woman.

                “Hullo, dear,” she said. “Are you lost?”

                “No, I – I would just like to know how to get on the Platform…”

                “Where are your parents?” she frowned. “Come here, dear, you shouldn’t stay alone. Is that your first time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”

                She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

                “Yes,” said Harry. “The thing is –“

                “There you are!”

                Harry turned around, silently swearing. Not quick enough.

                “You really thought you could escape, huh?” the man who had called him out chuckled. His long black hair was tied back in a low bun, and he wore a ridiculously large button-down orange shirt on top of his printed green harem pants. “There’s no way you’ll get onto that platform before we’re here to see you gawk.”

                Harry sulked as a hand ruffled his already messy hair, and his godfather finally noticed the woman, who looked pleasantly surprised.

“Molly Weasley!” he exclaimed, grinning. “How long has it been? You look stunning!”

                “Tone down the flattery, young man, I’m married,” she smiled, although she was clearly won over by Sirius’s charm. “And getting my youngest boy to the train. I suppose this one’s the godson you told me about?”

                “You suppose well. The ruffian runs away every chance he gets – I hope he hasn’t inconvenienced you?”

                “No, not at all,” she dismissed. “I was a bit worried, admittedly, I know not everyone is as careful as they should be when in public spaces, but still! Leaving such a young boy alone? But at least he had the good sense to come and ask for help.”

                “He does use his brain once in a while,” Sirius agreed.

                “Oi!”

                They paid no attention to him.

                “Well,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it then, half my kids are on the Platform already and I don’t feel comfortable leaving them alone for too long. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Black. Say hello to Ted and Andromeda for me!”

                “I will. Have a good day, Molly! It was a pleasure talking to you,” Sirius all but purred her way, making Harry gag expressively the second she had turned her back. It earned him a slap across the head, which he ignored.

                “Thanks for the help!” Harry called to the woman as she ushered the tall boy to the barrier, a bit disappointed to have made such a bad impression on her – but that wasn’t all thanks to him, was it?

                He turned back to Sirius, scowling, but his godfather shoved a small, soft package into his arms before he could utter a word.

                “Your parents wouldn’t want you to have it so soon,” Sirius said gravely. “But I daresay you will enjoy your stay at Hogwarts much better with it.”

                Harry’s eyes widened.

                “The invisibility cloak?” he asked reverently, his frustration gone.

                “The one and only,” Sirius winked. “Hide it quick, or we’ll both be in trouble.”

                Harry quickly placed the relic in his trunk, and looked innocent enough when Moony finally caught up with them. He was still wearing the horrendous cloak Sirius had charmed earlier this morning to make it look like his normal one – in his eyes only, since everybody else, Muggles and wizards alike, watched him pass by with googly eyes. It was quite a sight, this cloak, all patched-up in different materials and bright colours – Harry strongly suspected his godfather had acquired it in a Muggle costuming shop, from a clown disguise. Either that, or he had sewn it himself.

                Oblivious to the pointed gazes he was getting, Remus stopped in front of them, livid.

                “What were you _thinking_?” he whispered. “This is a public place! Have I taught you _nothing_? Public spaces – are – _not_ – safe! Do you hear me, Harry? Answer me!”

                “Moony, it’s okay–, “Sirius started.

                “Shut up. Just– _shut up._ You should know better than anyone else – you’re an _Auror_ –“

                “Moony,” Sirius repeated firmly. “It’s okay. I know better than anyone that he wasn’t in any danger, alright? I didn’t let him out of my sight, and he did nothing foolish. He looked around for a bit, talked to a lovely lady to ask her how to get through, and I intervened before he bothered her too much. It’s _okay_. You don’t have to go all Mama Wolf on us.”

                “Screw you,” the Mama Wolf in question mumbled, but he looked calmer. “As for you, Harry–“

                “That’s one sickle for the swear jar!”

                Remus’ focus turned to the young, red-haired girl at his side, and Harry grinned, relieved. His sister really had a knack for appearing at inconvenient times – an ability he had learned to appreciate given how often it worked in his favour. Remus grunted, before giving her a coin that she quickly pocketed with an angelic smile.

                “Where are the others?” Remus asked grumpily. “Did you run off _as well_?”

                “Who do you take me for?” the little girl scoffed. “They’re just around the corner.”

                And so they were. The rest of Harry’s family appeared almost on cue, strolling casually through the crowd. They noticed them and waved – obviously, only Remus had been worried about him, the boy noticed with a tinge of disappointment. Well, at least, they probably wouldn’t scold him as much. His dad was already positioning the cart with Harry’s luggage and his owl’s cage by their side, while nodding his head enthusiastically to Uncle Pete’s description of some new recipe for the restaurant. Mum’s hair had escaped her bun like it always did, and at her side, Effy was playing with the dark red curls, pulling on them and giggling as they bounced back into place.

“Hey, you found him!” James exclaimed, high-fiving his daughter. “I knew you would. You two are like magnets.”

“ _I_ found him, actually,” Sirius corrected.

Harry squinted, expecting some kind of giving out – even April couldn’t divert both Remus’ and their parents’ attention at the same time. Only Effy had that ability, and she was currently too distracted by the bouncing curls to be of any help. But they only high-fived Sirius for catching their son before he could get onto the platform, and Harry rolled his eyes. If Remus kept on being the only grown-up in his entourage to act as such, he would soon be more mature than both of his parents.

Sirius didn’t count, of course. Harry had been more mature than his godfather by the time he’d reached his seventh birthday.

                “You know,” James said casually, interrupting his son’s self-indulgent thoughts, “some Muggles keep their kids on a leash when in crowded areas. You know, to make sure they don’t get lost.”

                Harry’s eyes widened.

                “Now, we wouldn’t want to get to that, would we?”

                He shook his head hastily.

                “So what are we going to avoid doing in crowded areas?”

                “Getting lost,” Harry mumbled.

                Which earned him another smack on the head. Seriously, he lived in a family of child abusers. Wasn’t anyone around going to say something? They were all witnessing his being beaten up by his own father!

                “Running away,” he corrected grudgingly when no-one came to his rescue.

                “Good boy,” his father grinned.

He earned another nudge by rolling his eyes.

                “Very well!” exclaimed Sirius. “Now that we’re all accounted for” – he made a show of counting them – “let us watch the kids’ reaction as they make their way onto the platform for the first time!”

                “And how do we do that?” Harry asked grudgingly.

                “Easy as a pea,” his godfather answered. “You just walk through that barrier over there.”

                Harry looked around, watching the adults smirk.

                “Right,” he said.

                “So little trust in us,” Uncle Pete sighed dramatically, “it’s disheartening.”

                “We’re going to go first anyway,” Lily smiled. “To see your reaction when you get there.”

                “I’ll stay behind with Effy,” Remus assured them. “We’ll go in last.”

                “Hey!” Sirius protested. “Leave my daughter out of this. I’ll be the one to take her to the platform.”

                “Well if you took better care of _your daughter_ instead of running after Harry every chance you get–”

                “You were _pretty happy_ I’d run after Harry just a minute ago, Remus!”

                “And _you_ weren’t concerned about her at the time!”

                “She was fine! She was with April and the four of you! Harry was alone in a _public space_!”

                “A non-dangerous public space, you said so yourself!”

                “So you’d rather have him unsupervised? Like _he_ isn’t a public hazard?”

                “So is April!”

                “There were _four_ of you to supervise her! I should expect four adults to be able to keep two children in check!”

                “We have agreed that April counts as three!”

                “So does Harry! I was outnumbered and _you were not_!”

                The two in question rolled their eyes in chorus. “Who gets to take Effy” was the adults’ favourite game, and they had no problem playing dirty. In the end, Moony won because Lily took his side as a revenge for how Sirius had pranked her last week, James took Lily’s side to avoid getting pranked later on and Uncle Pete followed suit because Sirius was losing anyway. The blue-eyed girl let go of Lily’s hand to take Moony’s, looking around with wide eyes. Effy always looked around with wide eyes. The adults often said it made her look adorable, and Harry often said it make her look like an owl.

                He turned his attention back to his parents and uncle, and watched them pass through the barrier with no problems. It seemed easy enough, but the wall looked awfully concrete, and he had learnt not to trust his family when it came to anything magical – or non-magical, for that matter. He was half convinced the barrier was going to turn to actual stone the moment he would try to go in, as ridiculous as it sounded. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fall victim to this kind of prank.

                “Your turn, Harry,” said Remus encouragingly. Surely _he_ wouldn’t collaborate with this kind of pranks, would he? He’d read all those education books saying it was bad for children to be humiliated in public. Maybe he should ask for Effy and him to go first. Nobody would ever dare prank the precious girl.

He tried his best not to let his doubts or nerves show as he walked slowly toward the barrier. Everyone he had seen try had managed to go through. It was probably safe.

                “Harry, buddy!” Sirius called out. “Run, it’s easier that way!”

                _Right_ , Harry groaned internally. Well now he was sure that this was all a sham and he was going to collide with the wall.

                “Don’t be a chicken, Harry!” April called when he slowed down.

                Easy for her to say. She would go _after_ him, so she would know whether it worked or not. But the exclamation still made him walk quicker, and he decided to close his eyes – maybe that was the trick. Maybe if you didn’t _see_ the brick wall, then you didn’t _hit_ the brick wall. He kept his eyes tightly closed and walked faster, almost running, expecting a crash…

                Nothing happened.

                He opened his eyes as his jaw figuratively dropped and shattered to the ground. He was on the platform. He was on the platform! In front of the Hogwarts Express! The trio in front of him cheered and whistled, attracting the attention of the actual grown-ups around them but he didn’t care, looking around in wonder. There was not much to be seen, actually; the white smoke from the train made it hard to even know how large the platform was. But here was the big, red locomotive, and so many witches and wizards of all ages, people using their wands out in the open and owls and kids and hats and…

                “Ouch!”

                Something crashed into his back, making him fall to the ground.

                “Ow! Get _off_ me!” he snapped.

                “Why didn’t you just get out of the _way_ , you idiot!”

                He felt April’s elbow shoving into his back and kicked her shin as he struggled to get up.

                “Why d’you have to come running in like a bloody Hippogriff??” he replied.

                “Like _you_ didn’t run!”

                “Well I didn’t run into _someone_ now, did I?”

                “That’s because no-one was _dumb enough_ to stand in the way!”

                James picked April up from the tangled mess of arms and legs, restraining her as she wriggled to try and punch her brother, while Lily put Harry back on his feet, pulling him away so that he’d let go of April’s hair. The siblings exchanged murderous glares while their parents shushed them and turned back to the brick wall from which they had arrived – just in time to see Remus come in with Effy at his arm, an immense smile on her face and her eyes bright with amazement.

                “She’s so _cute_ ,” exclaimed James, echoing his wife’s tender “Aww”.

                “Ugh,” April and Harry grimaced.

                Their parents let them go to coo around the smaller girl and the siblings exchanged a glance, rolling their eyes.

                “Help me find a compartment?” Harry proposed.

                “You bet.”

                They left the group and pushed Harry’s cart towards the train, jostling the people around them who had neither the common sense nor the decency to walk out of the way. When they finally found an empty compartment near the end of the train, they stopped in front of the door and Harry pulled his trunk off of the cart. April put the cage of his owl inside before coming back to help him lift the piece of luggage, pulling and pushing it up the steps with difficulty.

                “Want a hand?”

                They turned around, panting heavily, and Harry saw one of the red-haired twins he had observed earlier.

                “No,” said April.

                “Yes, please,” said Harry.

                The boy smiled and called his twin, and with their help, Harry’s trunk was quickly tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

                “Thanks,” Harry said. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

                “Nice to meet you, Harry,” said the boy named Fred. “I’m Fred and this is George.”

                “That’s my sister April,” he said, indicating the pouting girl on the bench.

                “She wasn’t there earlier,” George noted, “when you were spying on us.”

                April lifted her head at that.

                “I wasn’t spying!” Harry protested.

                “Whatever. Spying, staring, stalking, make your choice,” Fred smirked.

                The younger boy blushed.

                “I was just trying to get on the platform before my parents arrived,” he mumbled.

                “And why would you want to do that?” Fred asked curiously.

                “Because they keep pranking him and that sissy didn’t want to look like a fool in front of the whole station,” April answered in his place.

                He wondered if it would be bad manners to stick his tongue out at her right now.

                “Your _parents_ prank you?” George said, bright-eyed.

“Uh, yes.”

                Fred opened his mouth again – probably about to ask for a formal introduction – but he was interrupted by a voice coming from outside of the train door.

                “Fred? George? Are you there?”

                “Coming, Mom.”

                The twins looked at them with regret, but hopped of the train. Harry heard April mutter “whipped” under her breath and he barely restrained a smirk.

                “To be continued,” George warned.

                “We should get back,” said April after a bit, “or you won’t have time to say goodbye.”

                He nodded and they got off the train, looking around until they found their family speaking with a weird-looking blonde woman. She was leaning on a cane casually, but even though no wands were drawn, something in the adults’ stance made the children wary and they quickly surveyed the area for potential hiding spots in case Moony signed “danger” to them.

                “Um, hey,” Harry said cautiously. “We found a compartment.”

                The blonde woman’s gaze went straight to him, and he had to stop himself from wincing. She had blue eyes and a beautiful face, but her expression was hard and for a second, he felt a wave of hatred coming from her, making him stumble back. Then April’s small hand slid in his own and as he felt her shooting daggers at the stranger, he straightened up, chin up and eyes defiant.

An imperceptible smile stretched the woman’s lips.

                “Hello Harry,” she said, calmly ignoring the little girl’s glare.

                “How do you know my name?”

                The feeling of hate was gone, but he still felt fidgety, and was glad that April was still squeezing his fingers.

                “We’ve met before,” she answered, “but you were even younger than you are now.”

                He studied her dubiously. She didn’t feel familiar at all. Although she wasn’t exceptionally tall, the way she stood made it look like she towered everyone on the platform, and light had a way of avoiding her that made it seem like she was in the shade of something. Maybe it was what Granny Batty called an aura; but at any rate, it made the small amount of people glancing in her direction quickly walk away. Even his family looked tense, and he could tell they wanted nothing more than to put themselves in between the two of them, or dragging him away from her. But they didn’t, and Moony didn’t make any gesture; and he felt proud that they would let him deal with it on his own.

                Well, almost on his own, he corrected mentally, clutching April’s hand.

                “I don’t remember,” he declared. “Neither you nor your name.”

                “Oh, you know my name,” she dismissed. “Everybody does.” He frowned but she seemed to deem the subject closed and announced: ”I’ll be going now. Don’t forget what I said.”

                She nodded to his parents before they had a chance to answer, and strode away towards the train without another word. He tried to see where she went, but her silhouette disappeared quickly in the crowd, and then he wasn’t even sure what direction she’d taken in the first place. He shook his head and turned back to his family. April hadn’t let go of his hand, and he could feel her shaking slightly.

                “Well, that wasn’t awkward at all,” she said nonetheless, her voice as steady as usual.

No one answered. All but Effy, who was back holding Lily’s hand and would never be disturbed by such earthly things, looked upset; and Moony was rubbing Sirius back comfortingly while the Auror exchanged undecipherable grim glances with their dad.

                “Who _was_ that?” asked Harry.

                “An old friend,” Lily said hesitantly, when nobody else spoke up.

                “A _friend_?”

                “She used to be,” Sirius said with a tense smile. “Doesn’t look like she wants to reconnect though.”

                “That’s a way to put it,” Harry scoffed.

                He and April exchanged a glance. The adults still looked very upset and he decided that – for now at least – he’d let it go. If he was to trust the determined look on her face, his sister would fish the truth out of them sooner rather than later, and only then would they decide what to do – because that was a mystery to solve if he had ever smelt one.

It was almost eleven now, and everyone seemed to have decided that the incident was to be forgotten, because they started hugging him and giving him advice. Have fun – make friends – be good – not _too_ good – don’t get caught – study well – find the Map – write everyday – do your homework – don’t piss off Minnie. He hugged them all and even let Effy embrace him for a couple of seconds, sighing happily in the resulting quiet in his head.

“Goodbye, kiddo,” he said, kissing the girl’s round cheek. “Take good care of them.”

Then he turned to his sister, who threw herself at him, hugging his chest tightly.

                “Hey,” he mumbled against her hair. “I’m gonna miss you too, dumbface.”

                “You’d better find some Floo Powder before the end of the week. I don’t want a stupid letter, I want to talk to you face to face.”

                “I will, I promise,” he croaked. “Ape, could you please, uh, squeeze less?”

                “Who am I gonna fight with?” she complained, pulling out of the embrace.

                “I thought mum had signed you up for boxing classes?”

                “It’s not the same,” she pouted. “I don’t like hitting strangers.”

                “That’s cute.”

                “ _You’re_ cute.”

                “How about we have the biggest fight _ever_ when I come back home for Christmas?”

                She grinned. “Really?”

                “Really. And you’ll have all that experience from boxing, so you’ll probably kick my ar—“

                “Harry, _language!_ ”

                “Sorry, Moony.”

                “Whipped,” April muttered.

                He kicked her in the shin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed what you read! The second chapter will be up next week!


	3. The Hogwarts Express

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm repeating myself but: feel free to point out any mistake! Since this is a much longer work than what I am used to writing, I'm sure a lot of them must have sneaked past me. Also I haven't gone back to check and edit this chapter yet... mea culpa!
> 
> I also apologise for posting this chapter one day later than intended, Real Life was a mayhem this week and especially yesterday. Next chapter will be posted next Friday without fault though!
> 
> Thank you for your time and enjoy!

                Neville checked Trevor’s box one more time as he close the door to the compartment. How the toad managed to escape every single damn time, he didn’t know. He was starting to suspect that his great-uncle Algie had a twisted sense of humour and had actually gifted him with a magical breed that could Disapparate at will. The boy sighed. He didn’t understand his English relatives at all.

                He put the box down on the bench and sat next to it, looking out the window to the English countryside. It was very flat, and looked pretty desert without the unending forests he was accustomed to. The sky was crowded with clouds, and he suddenly felt very lonely in a very big world. He stroke the sleeve of his jumper absentmindedly; Aunt Katie had gifted it to him before he left, and even though he knew it was only his imagination, he could have sworn it still smelt like sun and sea and pine trees – like home.

                The door opening suddenly made him startle, and his fingers instinctively reached out to the wand in his pocket.

                “Hey there!” a young black boy said joyfully. “Can we seat here? Are you expecting anybody?”

                “Um, no,” Neville mumbled. “Come in.” The boy was accompanied by another one, who was slightly taller, had perfectly styled blond hair and a vaguely disdainful expression that was probably meant to look aristocratic. Before today, Neville had only seen this expression on his grandmother’s face, but several other people on the Platform had worn it as well – he could only guess what it meant, and he didn’t like it one bit.

                “Thanks,” the first boy said, his face totally exempt of aristocracy. “We could use a hand with that trunk though, Justin filled it up with rocks or something…”

                “BOOKS,” the other one grunted, pulling the luggage inside. “I _told_ Father I absolutely didn’t need to bring half of his library to school, I swear…”

                Neville couldn’t help smiling, and he relaxed. Aunt Katie would have scolded him for judging a book by his cover and the thought was enough for him to forget his made-up assumption about the blond boy. He got up and the three of them hauled the trunk into the luggage nets, puffing and huffing, and at the end of the task, Justin’s hair was not so perfect anymore, there were patches of red on his face and neck, and he looked much more sympathetic.

                “Do you think the nets will hold?” he asked, out of breath.

                “They’re probably magically reinforced,” Neville answered.

                The other two looked at him in wonder.

“Well, of course they would be!” the black boy said.

He slumped down on the bench in front of Neville with a short laugh, and Justin followed suit with more dignity.

“I don’t know how I’m going to get used to all of that. I’m Dean Thomas, by the way! And this is… Justin Fetch-Something.”

“Finch-Fletchey.” Justin shot Dean a bad look, before smiling back at Neville: “Nice to meet you.”

                “Nice to meet you,” Neville smiled hesitantly. “I’m, um –“

Well, there was no way around it, was there?

“– Neville Longbottom.”

“Nice to meet you,” Justin Finch-Fletchey repeated politely.

“Same,” Dean said. “So you know a lot about magic and stuff, then?”

Relaxing at their lack of reaction, the young boy nodded. “Yes, I guess. I grew up in a wizarding family.”

“Wow,” Dean beamed. “That must be so awesome!”

Neville couldn’t help smiling at his enthusiasm, but the compartment door opened again before he had a chance to answer. Once again, his fingers jumped to his pocket, but it was just another student – their age, apparently.

                “Excuse me?” the black girl said politely, “but may I sit here?”

                She had very bushy hair that reminded him of his Aunt Eleni, and prominent teeth that made her smile look just a tiny bit mischievous.

                “Of course,” Justin said at once, jumping on his feet. “Do you need help with that trunk?”

                “Yes, please,” she beamed.

                He helped her pull the trunk inside and tucked it in a corner – it looked as heavy as his own, and none of them felt like pulling the same stunts as before to haul it up the nets – before sitting back down next to Dean. The girl took place in front of them, on Neville’s left.

                “Hi,” Dean said, extending his hand. “I’m Dean Thomas.”

                “Pleasure to meet you,” she answered eagerly. “Hermione Granger.”

                “Justin Finch-Fletchey,” said Justin, shaking her hand as well. “A pleasure.”

                “Neville Longbottom,” Neville muttered, tensing unconsciously.

                Up until now, his last name had made no big impression whatsoever, but when Hermione Granger’s eyes widened, he knew his luck had run out.

                “Longbottom?” she gasped. “As in, _Alice_ Longbottom?”

                He shuffled uncomfortably on the seat, avoiding the curious stares of Dean and Justin.

                “Er, yeah,” he mumbled. “That’s my mom.”

                “I read all about her in _Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ ,” Hermione piped up excitedly. “I remember now that it was mentioned she had a son, but I didn’t think about working out how old he would be!”

                “Your mom’s famous, Longbottom?” Dean asked, intrigued.

                “She’s more than famous,” Hermione replied in his place. “She’s basically a National Hero, in the Wizarding world! She was given an honorific medal for her Service as an Auror and banishing You-Know-Who!”

                “I don’t know who,” said Justin, at the same time as Dean asked “Who’s that?”

                “Only the Darkest Wizard to have taken over in Great-Britain,” said Hermione, a bit haughtily. “How do you not know that?”

                “My parents are Muggles,” answered Justin.

                “Didn’t even know wizards existed before I got my letter,” added Dean, shrugging.

                “Well, I’m Muggle-born too, but I did some research when I got my letter,” Hermione declared. “I think it’s important to know the history of our world! Especially since it’s pretty recent history, right Neville?”

                The boy nodded, not looking up from the entwined fingers resting on his knees. It wasn’t that bad, he tried to persuade himself. The girl was just happy to show how knowledgeable she was. His thumb stroked the inside if his jumper, right where it was softer.

                “Your dad must be very proud of your mom,” said Dean gently, probably sensing his awkwardness.

                He looked up in time to see Hermione grimace.

                “My dad’s dead,” he said quietly. “The night Voldemort – You-Know-Who – came to our house, he killed him.”

                There was a silence – much more awkward than before Dean had spoken. He and Justin were exchanging embarrassed glances, and the girl was now a chewing on her lip, eyes stuck to the floor. If she had really learnt “all about” his mom in whatever book she had read, surely she had known that piece of information? And it hadn’t occurred to her that it wouldn’t be a happy subject to bring up? The silence extended itself to the point where any apology would be pointless, and Hermione seemed to sense it, because she finally started talking again.

                “Uh – so… What House do you believe you’ll be in?” she asked.

                “I didn’t really get the difference,” Dean said immediately. “How many are there, again?”

                “I think four,” Justin supplied, and they soon were chatting about the compared merits of each House. Clearly, the blond boy had done his homework on the topic, although he hadn’t read _Hogwarts, a History_ – a book Hermione Granger kept referring to and insisted they should read. The awkwardness slowly diffused and, after a while, Neville decided to join in.

                “Both my parents were Gryffindors,” he said tentatively. “But my aunt was in Hufflepuff, and it seems like such a great House too.”

*

“Check mate,” said Ron triumphantly.

“Dammit!” said Harry. “How did you do that? Did you cheat?”

“You can’t _cheat_ at chess,” Ron said indignantly. “Now give me that card. You lost, it’s mine.”

“Fine,” Harry grumbled, giving up his Chocolate Frog Card of Louisa Haddock. “But if I beat you this time, I want your Dracula.”

“And when _I_ beat you _again_ I want the rest of the Chocolate Frogs. All the unopened ones.”

“ _Fine._ ”

“Game on!”

*

                The candy lady had passed and the floor was covered in colourful wrapping papers, the four children slumped on the benches rubbing their bellies – even Hermione Granger, whose parents were dentists, hadn’t been able to resist the magical sweets – and still talking. Although the conversation had started with Hogwarts Houses and the functioning of the school, it had somehow gotten to magical pets.

                “I bought an owl,” Justin said proudly. “Since it’s apparently the most used means of communication in the wizarding world. He’s very smart, too! You just need to tell him who the letter is for, and he’ll find the person. I had no idea birds were so clever.”

                “My parents said it would be a waste of money,” Dean regretted. “We’ve got loads of pets at home and they said it was enough, but I’m going to miss having the doggies sleeping with me.”

                Hermione wrinkled her nose at that. “Isn’t it unhygienic?” she asked. “We never had any pets, in my family. I didn’t even think about purchasing one, when we went to Diagon Alley.”

                “What about you, Neville?” Dean asked, curious. “Any magical pets?”

                Neville shook his head. “There are a lot of animals around my aunts’ house, but we never had any pets. My great-uncle Algie offered me a toad this summer, though.”

                Hermione wrinkled her nose again, while Justin stifled a laugh. “A _toad_?” he repeated. “Does it actually _do_ anything?”

                “No,” Neville answered, half-smiling. “Except for running away every chance he gets.”

                “Show us!” Dean begged.

                Neville got up to open his pet’s box and – _of course_ it would be – it was empty.

                “Oh no,” he sighed. “He escaped again.”

                The other three laughed out loud, but when, after a thorough search of the compartment, Trevor was still missing, Neville started getting worried.

                “I’d better go looking for him,” he said. “I don’t want to leave the train without him.”

                “We’re still quite far from there,” argued Justin.

                “Not that far,” countered Hermione. “Actually, we should probably change into our school robes – I bet the toilets will be overcrowded later on.”

                She started rummaging in her trunk, and soon the boys were imitating her. She went out to the girls’ room, but the other three stayed in the compartment, keeping their Muggle underwear on and changing into the wizarding robes. Dean and Justin looked very uncomfortable in them, and kept grumbling about the lack of pants, but Neville wasn’t in the mood to laugh about it. He wasn’t especially attached to Trevor, but the batrachian was still his responsibility – not to mention Algie would probably not take it very well if his great-nephew lost his gift before even making it to Hogwarts. At least, at the school, the toad could find a proper habitat if he decided to go back to the wilderness.

                “I’ll go looking for Trevor,” he said at last.

                “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Justin said soothingly. “Do you want us to help out?”

                “I’ll be fine, thanks. It’s just that the train is really big, and I’d rather try to find him as soon as possible.”

                As he got out into the corridor, he saw Hermione coming back from the loo.

                “You’re going to look for your – uh - pet?” she asked.

                He nodded.

                “I’ll help you then!”

                “You don’t have to…”

“Oh, I don’t mind! Besides, we’ll have more chances of finding him with two sets of eyes, right?”

“Alright then,” Neville said. “Thank you. I can – go towards the end of the train, and you could check the front?”

“Okay,” she agreed. He started walking away, but she called him back: “Neville, wait!”

He turned back. She was looking a bit distressed, and took a big breath before she continued.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About your father. And for bringing all of this up, earlier. I wasn’t thinking.”

His shoulders relaxed, and only then did he realised he had kept a hunched position, ever since he had introduced himself – and the slight feeling of annoyance he had felt talking with her for the last few hours left his chest.

“Oh.” He scratched his head. “It’s okay Hermione. I know you weren’t trying to embarrass me.”

“Still,” she insisted. “It was very insensitive of me, not to think about how it would make you feel. I’d like to apologise.”

“Okay,” he said. “Well, um… apology accepted?” Her face lost the guarded expression she had displayed from the moment she had realised her mistake, and he added a quiet “thank you,” that made her eyes light up as she smiled the same mischievous smile as the first time he had seen her.

“Thank _you_ ,” she echoed gravely, and he repressed the urge to scratch his head again.

“Well – I should go looking for Trevor,” he said.

“Yes. Me too! See you back at the compartment in a bit?”

He nodded and turned back around, his chest much lighter and feeling much more optimistic about his search. He only had to knock on the doors and ask the students if they’d seen a toad, after all, and the train wasn’t endless. He’d find his pet sooner or later.

That state of mind didn’t hold very long however; he got a lot of laughs and a few sympathetic words for answers, but no-one seemed to have spotted Trevor. He was getting really anxious by the time he reached the tail of the train, and knocked on the door of a compartment occupied only by a couple of boys who looked his age. They were playing Wizarding Chess very enthusiastically, and there were as many candy wrappers on the benches for the two of them as there were in his own compartment for four.

“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”

They didn’t seem to hear him at first – the ginger one was arguing with his Knight – but his friend tapped him on the shoulder and he looked up.

“Sorry, what?” the ginger asked.

 “My toad,” he said. “I’ve lost him – he keeps getting away from me.”

“An actual toad?” the black-haired boy asked. “Not a chocolate frog? We had one that jumped out the window just a few minutes ago.”

“Hours,” his friend corrected.

“No, a toad. A pet toad.”

The boys exchanged a glance and shook their heads. His shoulders slouched.

“Sorry, mate,” the ginger said.

“Have you tried asking a prefect to Summon him?” said the other who, he noticed, had stunningly green eyes.

Neville’s eyes widened. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well then,” the kid said, getting up and dusting his trousers.

He walked past him and into the corridor, only stopping when he realised neither boy was following him.

 “Ron, don’t tell me you don’t want to see a toad flying into some prefect’s hands!” he grinned.

Neville and Ron exchanged a glance, and Ron mouthed something that looked like “I’m sorry” before getting up and hurrying behind the other boy. Neville tried not to think of the multiple possible reasons for that apology – the flying toad was a compelling image – and, sighing, followed behind.

                “What’s your name?” the green-eyed boy asked.

                “Neville,” he said, preferring not to start another conversation on his mother’s accomplishments. It earned him a curious look from the black-haired boy. “You?”

                “I’m Harry,” he said, leaving out his last name as well.

                “Ron Weasley.”

                “He’s my new best friend,” Harry added with a grin, and Ron Weasley’s ears got pink.

                “We just met,” he contradicted.

                “So? I did say ‘new’, didn’t I? What House do you want to be in?” he asked, turning to Neville. “We’re both going for Gryffindor, if we can.”

                “I’m not sure,” Neville said – the conversation earlier hadn’t helped him decide. “Gryffindor sounds great, I suppose.”

                “It’s the _best_ House,” Harry said proudly. “All my family was in there, and Ron’s too, right Ron?”

                “Half of them still are,” the boy nodded. “I’ve got a lot of older brothers.”

                “Hey, didn’t you tell me one of them was a prefect?” Harry said. “Why don’t we just…”

                He stopped suddenly and, for the third time today, Neville’s hand went to his pocket, where he toyed with his wand without getting it out. In front of him were three other boys, blocking the way and looking dismissively at them – or, more particularly, at Harry.

                “Hey again,” said the one in front. His white-blonde hair was slicked back, and he looked elegantly bored. “Missed me?”

                “Atrociously,” Harry said in a cold voice.

                “This is Crabbe and this is Goyle,” the boy said. “Who are your new pets? Wait, I know – red hair, hand-me-down robes, bad taste in company – this one must be a Weasley.”

                Ron’s face turned as red as his hair, but Harry only said: “The best of them. Not quite in your league, _Malfoy_.”

                The hairs on Neville’s neck all raised in alarm as the boy named Malfoy turned to him, pale lips pressed against each other in displeasure. His fingers closed on his wand, directing it in front of him carefully, but without taking it out of the pocket. _Element of surprise_ , his mother’s voice whispered in his ear.

                “And who are _you_?”

                Once again, Harry spoke before anyone else had a chance to answer – but not without shooting an undecipherable side-glance at Neville. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Unfortunately, he’s out of your league as well – but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll make loads of friends in Slytherin. Papa’s reputation should help if your charming temper isn’t enough.”

                “Careful now Potter,” – Oh. _Oh._ – Malfoy grinded. “There’s plenty to say about _your_ father’s accomplishments as well.”

                “Oh, yes, there is,” Harry Potter grinned. “But luckily for me, I can be proud of all of them.”

                Seeing the dangerous flames in Malfoy’s eyes and pushing away the thought that he had just met Harry _Potter_ , Neville got ready to cast – but suddenly, Malfoy’s careless appearance crumbled, and the blonde boy burst out laughing. Harry’s grin got wider, and he made a step forward, clapping a hand on the student’s back.

                “Missed you mate!” he exclaimed. “You’ve improved your game! Blimey, I was almost convinced your dad brainwashed you again. What’s up with the gorillas?”

                “Shut up about my dad,” Malfoy retorted, pushing the hand away and wiping a few tears from his eyes. ”And I told you, they’re Crabbe and Goyle. Don’t call them gorillas, you punk. Crabbe, Goyle, that’s my friend Harry. Unfortunately, he has no manners. Say hello.”

                Looking as dumbfounded as Neville and Ron were, the two boys grunted what sounded like a hello, and Harry echoed them, before turning around.

                “Sorry for all the drama,” he said, “it’s kind of a tradition.”

                “You’re friends with a _Malfoy_?” Ron spat out, and Neville wasn’t far from feeling the same way.

                “Hey, hey, not just _any_ Malfoy,” Harry protested. “This one’s the best of them.”

                “So you said about me.”

                “And I meant it!”

                “You’ve never even met the rest of my family!”

                “I did! I talked to your mum at King’s Cross, and the twins helped me with my trunk, and then _you were there_ when they came to talk about my parents and– and _you_ ’ve never met Draco.”

                “I don’t need to.”

                Ron turned on his heel and walked away briskly, Harry’s smile dropping off his face. He turned back to meet Malfoy’s amused gaze and crossed his arms, exasperated.

                “You just _had_ to attack his family, didn’t you?”

                “Sorry,” the blonde boy shrugged. “It’s kind of a tradition.”


	4. The Great Lake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feel free to point out any mistake! Since this is a much longer work than what I am used to writing, I'm sure a lot of them must have sneaked past me.
> 
> Thank you for your time and enjoy!

                When Neville got back to the compartment, his Summoned toad in hand, Justin and Hermione were arguing fiercely about a book they had both read and both liked – for such wildly different reasons though, that it was apparently necessary for them to take turns scoffing at each other and exclaiming in disbelief. Justin was pacing around the small compartment, shaking his head and snorting everytime Hermione advanced a new reason for why she’d liked it, which she was doing faster and faster after every snort, as if she was trying to cram every possible piece of information in the shortest span of time and possibly daze her opponent at the same time. It was working at least partly: Dean was looking more than slightly nauseous and his face brightened in relief when he saw the door open.

                “Oh, hey!” he said, louder than strictly necessary in order to cover up Hermione’s monologue. “You’re back!”

                The other two finally stopped arguing and Hermione smiled: “You found him! Oh, I’m glad, he seemed to be nowhere at all. I was getting worried.”

                “He’s very ugly,” Dean added, and Neville had to agree. “Does he even, like, cuddle with you or something?”

                “Um, no.”

                “What’s the point of having a pet that isn’t useful or affectionate?” Justin asked a bit haughtily.

                “ _And_ makes you worry everytime he runs away?” Hermione said.

                “No idea,” Neville sighed, putting Trevor back into his box and hoping he would still be there when he left the train. “I’m not sure why Algie gave him to me – maybe they were fashionable, in his time.”

                “Maybe he just wanted to get rid of it,” Dean suggested.

                “Or maybe…” Justin said pensively, “maybe it actually has some kind of super-power and – it could just be testing your loyalty before deciding if you are worthy of wielding it!” he finished triumphantly.

                The other three stared at him dubiously.

                “What?”

                “I’m just wondering how many Marvel comic books there are in your trunk,” Dean said.

                Justin was too educated to stick his tongue out at him, but not enough to resist giving him the finger. That earned him an indignant rant on propriety on Hermione’s part but the boys just tuned her off and it was definitely worth it.

                The end of the trip was uneventful. Justin and Hermione kept arguing – more quietly – about the book and his author, some Shake-Pears lad or other, while Dean told Neville about his childhood in Peckham. Night was setting, and it was very dark when the train finally came to a stop. They put their cloaks on, leaving the luggage inside which Hermione told them would be brought to their rooms after the Repartition Ceremony.

                The students flooded the platform, and Neville repressed a strong shiver: it was _very_ cold. He stuck close to his new group of friends, hoping they would at least shield him from the freezing wind.

                “Firs’-years! Firs’-years over here!”

                They went in direction of the voice, and he nearly fell as the three other kids stopped dead in their tracks in front of him. The man who had called was twice as tall as any other man he’d ever met, and at least thrice as big. He looked scary indeed, what with the huge beard that ate most of his face, but his voice was friendly.

                “C’mon, follow me – any more firs’-years? Mind yer step now! Firs’-years, follow me!”

                “Who _is_ that?” Hermione whispered in his ear, as they followed the man out of the station and down a steep path. It was too small for them to be walking as a group, so they went one after the other – Dean first, then Neville, then Hermione, then Justin.

                “I’ve no idea,” he whispered back. “Wasn’t it mentioned in _Hogwarts, a History_?”

                “The staff isn’t mentioned, no,” she scoffed.

                “I think it’s the gamekeeper,” Justin said. “He’s called Hagrid.”

                Both of them turned around, raising an eyebrow.

                “How do you know?” Hermione asked.

                Justin shrugged: “That’s what they’re saying back there. But keep walking, everybody’s pushing me now!”

                They turned back around and stayed silent for a while. Neville’s teeth were chattering, and Dean frequently looked back at him, worried.

                “Alright, mate?” he asked after a while.

                “I d-don’t think I’ve ever b-been this cold in m-my entire life.”

                “Where do you come from?” the boy laughed. “It’s not even autumn yet.”

                Neville shrugged and gathered his cloak around him in hopes of keeping a little warmth. The path wasn’t so narrow anymore, so he went back to shielding himself with his group of friends, reckoning that if penguins could survive blizzards that way, he could survive a Scotland’s end-of-summer evening.

                “Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in just a sec,” the gamekeeper said, “jus’ round this bend here.”

                They reached the bend and let out an amazed “oh”. Under an ink black sky, over the ink black water of the Great Lake, was Hogwarts. Warm lights were emanating from every window, contrasting against the darkness as towers and passageways appeared in front of their eyes. For the first time since the train had departed, Neville felt the tension in his chest relax a little. Everything might feel foreign, from the coldness of the air and the smell of the forest to the way people acted and the absence of his loved ones, but Hogwarts – _Hogwarts_ – of which he had heard tales from the youngest age, really did welcome him with all its wild and wise heart. And for a moment, as he stood on the shingle, surrounded by the forest, the quiet breathing of the crowd around him and the castle overlooking them, his homesickness seemed to melt.

                “No more ‘n four to a boat,” said the gamekeeper, his voice a quiet grumble that almost seemed loud in the stillness of that moment.

                The four students climbed onto one of the boats, and soon enough, Hagrid was ordering: “Forward!”, and the whole fleet started to glide onto the surface. No word was uttered, but Dean leaned closer to Neville and pointed to the centre of the lake; there was nothing to be seen, exactly, but the young boy nodded. It may have been a simple ripple or an inaudible clapping sound, or maybe his imagination after hearing so many stories about the Giant Squid but he would have sworn a languid tentacle had caressed the surface from below.

 

*

 

                An elbow shoved Harry’s side, and he looked up, startled.

                “What is _wrong_ with you?” Draco whispered. “Stop sulking.”

                “I’m not sulking!” the boy protested.

                “Yes you are, and it’s ruining my fun. So stop right now, or I’ll ask Crabbe to push you off the boat.”

                Repressing the very strong urge to push his friend overboard himself, Harry let a quiet sigh, looking up to the castle. It looked beautiful, and magical, and everything he had expected it to be, but when he had turned to his right to share his excitement with April, he had suddenly realised that not only wasn’t she there, but she also wouldn’t be for another whole two years. Twenty-four months. Sure, he would see her during the holidays but – how was he supposed to survive seeing his sister only three months a year? What was he going to do?

                SPLASH.

                The time seemed to slow to a stop as his body collided with the freezing water and the difference of temperatures almost sent him into shock. And then there was no air around him, only darkness and liquid and his clothes pulling him down, his brain taking too long to react, to move – no, no, he had to move, had to go back up, had to _breathe_ , go up, up, _up_. His feet were paddling desperately, his arms reaching for the surface despite the weight of the cloak and – he burst through, aspiring large gulps of air mixed with water, coughing and still paddling like crazy to keep from drowning again. It was still so dark, apart from two blurry luminous points some distance away from him – apparently, the boats hadn’t stopped their course for something as trivial as a student drowning – and it took him a couple of seconds to understand he’d lost his glasses. People were calling out for him, so he called back as loud as he could, still battling his cloak that just _wouldn’t come off._ He saw Hagrid’s boat starting toward him – even without glasses, there was no mistaking the huge silhouette – and he heard Ron’s voice shouting to Draco from afar, and although his brain hadn’t caught up still to the situation, a part of him noticed his friend was using the kind of words April would have requested significant compensation to the swear jar for.

                “Get ‘n here!” the half-giant said in an annoyed tone, fishing him from the water without much difficulty despite the fact that his wet clothes weighed about a thousand pounds. “Over eager to make yer daddy proud, are yeh?”

                Harry tried to protest, but his teeth were chattering so fervently he wasn’t able to form a word. They reached the shore before he was able to warm up properly. While Hagrid’s colossal cloak had been shielding Harry from the wind, his brain had started to regain signs of functioning but his vision was starting to redden. As soon as the boat collided with the earth, he gritted his teeth and left the comfort of the cloak, leaping onto the shore and sprinting towards the cluster of students, a dozen of metres away, which had formed around a fist-fight. Curiously enough, Crabbe and Goyle had stayed out of it, and not curiously at all – having five older brothers did provide experience in fist-fighting – Ron was winning. He hadn’t quite decided yet who he was going to help, but luckily for him, his body didn’t wait for instructions in this kind of situations. He pulled Ron away from Draco – whose nose would have soon looked as attractive as a potato otherwise – then hoisted up the blonde boy, and pushed him into the knee-deep water. At the very least he’d also be wet and cold in addition to being sore. Then there was a massive wave of shouting come from both sides and with significant interjections from Hagrid, words that were probably worth a Galleon towards the Swear Jar although he couldn’t be sure, he hadn’t heard them before – and all three of them were told that they would each get a detention and House points deduced as soon as they were Sorted.

*

 

                “ _Nox_ ,” said Hermione.

                Neville echoed her, trying to ignore the fast beating of his heart, and their wands went dark. He hadn’t known what else to do – getting involved in the fight wouldn’t have been wise, but he was pretty sure not even _trying_ to break it off wasn’t better. But he wasn’t _supposed_ to show anyone he knew how to fight. He wasn’t supposed to know any magic either – but when Harry Potter had fallen into the lake and not come up in the next five seconds, he had panicked.

                But he wasn’t the only one who had done magic when he wasn’t supposed to know how to. He turned to the girl at his side.

                “How do you know how to cast that spell?” he asked, suspicious.

                She arched an eyebrow. “Well, I practiced, of course.”

                “You’re not really allowed to do that.”

                “Technically, the restrictions only apply _after_ you’ve entered Hogwarts,” the young girl shrugged. “Before that, you’re just assumed to be making accidental magic. I just wanted to see if I could do it – I’m already entering Hogwarts at a disadvantage, I was sure all the wizard-born already knew spells. I didn’t want to fall behind.”

                “They don’t,” Neville said, still wary.

                “Well, _you_ do. You cast before I did.”

                Neville blinked.

                “I – practiced too.”

                “Well, obviously,” she said – and there it was again, her mischievous smile. “I don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t, really. But I’m glad I already met someone who takes their studies seriously – we could do our homework together! Would you agree to tell me about the things we don’t learn in class – such as, daily life magic? I can’t believe you haven’t read _Hogwarts, a history_. It is so full of information – how do people live inside a magical masterpiece like that without wanting to know _everything_ about it?”

 

*

 

                The path to the castle was stiff as hell, and they were slipping on the wet grass at every step, but Harry kept glancing to the ginger boy at his side, squinting as he tried to guess if Ron was still mad at him.

                “S-so,” he finally said, still shivering.

                “You’re a bloody idiot,” Ron said angrily.

                Apparently, the answer was yes.

                “I g-guess,” Harry agreed after a pause.

                “And you have _really_ bad taste in friends.”

                “S-sometimes. B-but I think my n-new best friend is p-pretty awesome.”

                There was another silence, as if Ron didn’t know what to say or whether to stay angry – and then he decided to just ignore the comment.

                “Are you going to stay friends with him anyway? After he– after what he’s done?”

                “P-probably.”

                Ron sighed.

                “You’re barmy,” he concluded. “I just– can you just _tell me_ – why? Why _him_ , of all people _?_ ”

                “I g-guess I just have really b-bad taste.”

                There was a longer silence.

                “I just don’t know what to think about you,” he finally whispered. “Do you really not care about what his family’s done – about the crap that he believes in? Are you like him? Do you believe it too?”

                “Of c-course not, my mom’s M-Muggleborn,” Harry protested. “And D-Draco’s not like that – well he is b-but – I mean...”

                “Sure,” the boy said dubiously.

                “I d-don’t believe in it,” Harry said as firmly as he could. “I s-swear.”

                “Then why do you hang out with those who do?”

                He had no response to that, and Ron didn’t say anything else. They kept walking side by side, in silence, but it didn’t feel like companionship. It felt like his new best friend hadn’t yet decided if he would stay around.


	5. Back to Where We Were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's leave the kids for a bit... I'm sure you've been dying to see more of the Marauders!
> 
> As always, feel free to point out any mistake! Since this is a much longer work than what I am used to writing, I'm sure a lot of them must have sneaked past me.
> 
> Thank you for your time and enjoy!

                James woke up very early – so very early, in fact, that it was completely dark and it took him a good ten seconds to try and remember where he was. It probably would have taken longer, but then the tapping sound that had yanked him out of sleep started again, and there was a familiar groan somewhere on his right that was indisputably Lily’s. The tapping sound resumed, obnoxious, and he sat up, fumbling to find his wand which was supposed to lie on top of the bedside table but had apparently fallen somewhere on the floor – _ah_. His lower body still tangled in the sheets, he twisted the rest of it on the ground, limbs outstretched to reach the wooden stick he had supernaturally perceived to have rolled under the bed. His Divination grades at Hogwarts might say otherwise, but James had always known that he had some kind of sixth sense.

                “ _Lumos_ ,” he murmured, fingertips pressing against what was – since no light appeared – apparently not his wand. Or not _a_ wand at all. Unless it was, and he had just gone blind?

                More tapping. _Windowpane_ , his brain supplied helpfully, and he untangled his legs from the bedding, earning more groans, pocketed what turned out to be a pencil, stood up and blundered towards the curtains to pull them open, hoping for some light.

                There was none, so either it was still night-time and very cloudy, or he really was blind. He tried to recall if he had done anything that would have resulted in this tragic outcome – drank some unknown potion, or upset a Bowtruckle – but nothing came to mind. The window’s lid came off after a bit of groping, and something feathery brushed his face as the owl that had so rudely awoken him flew into the room, sprinkling a spatter of what he hoped were raindrops all over his face.

                James closed the window before the cold had a chance of bothering his wife, and then bothered her anyway by turning the light on the Muggle way – there was a switch on the wall above his night-stand, which he would have remembered sooner if he had spent more time at home these last few months instead of chasing Grindylows around bogs in Yorkshire.

                The light that flooded the room confirmed that he wasn’t, in fact, blind, and Lily groaned again and uttered a tirade of unintelligible threats that would probably have sounded scarier if they hadn’t come from under a throw pillow. The snowy owl they had offered Harry for his birthday had settled on one of the piles of leather-bound books scattered on the ground, which did make James cringe a little, but then again if the books had minded, there would be roasted chicken bits all over the room by now, so.

                There was dry food on Lily’s nightstand, which was either owl treats or potions ingredients, so he handed them to Hedwig and untied the letter from her foot. After letting her back out with a pat on the head, he leapt back under the quilt and shimmied his way through the bed until he was pressed against his wife’s sleeping shape, cold feet against warm ones, arms around her waist and left breast in hand. The left breast was the best. It had freckles on it.

                “Gerroff,” she protested forcefully, “you’re cold!”

                “Letter from Harry, love,” he whispered.

                “No, I’m _sleeping_ …” she grunted, pillow still pressed against her face.

                “Not anymore you’re not,” he retorted with another kiss. “I’ll read it to you.”

                He opened the envelope, pulled out the parchment, blinked and looked around.

                “Um, honey?”

                “ _What._ ”

“You wouldn’t happen to know where my glasses are, would you?”

“For _Merlin’s sake…_ ”

Lily threw her pillow at him and took the letter from his hands. “I hate you,” she informed him, sitting up and squinting at the brightness.

                “Me too, darling.”

                She sighed and started reading.

“ _Dear parents_ – that would be us, I believe – _I’m in Gryffindor._ ”

“YES!”

James punched the air.

                “Shut up,” Lily suggested. “ _I also have a detention on Wednesday, and I’ve lost five points._ Seriously? On his _first_ day?”

                “He’s quick,” James said proudly.

                “Quick to mess up his academic record, yeah. Hey, don’t look so smug! If I find out you gave him any ideas, you’re in big trouble.”

                “I didn’t! It was all him, I promise.”

                “Don’t make it sound like some kind of accomplishment either. What if Minerva summons us? I’m too old to get told off in her office. My ego wouldn’t survive it.”

                “I’ll take the dressing down for us both,” James said, magnanimous.

                “Yeah, like the good old days, right? _Mum, before you get mad at me_ – a little late for that, mister – _I didn’t actually go looking for trouble. Draco threw me in the Lake while we were crossing it_ – that’s what you get for befriending that sort of people,” she commented, disgusted.”– _which he lost ten points for (he’s in Slytherin, of course), since I almost drowned. I pushed him back when Hagrid got me to the shore and that was why I also lost some points, but I only did so after saving him from Ron Weasley, my new best friend, who was beating him up for my honour. I got three points back for that so in the end it’s not that bad._ _Ron lost ten points (Gryffindor, also) for almost breaking Draco’s nose and on Wednesday we all have detention together for causing trouble._ ”

                “Oh, cool,” James said, snuggling against her side. “Bonding time.”

                “That’s exactly what he says next,” she sighed, stroking his unkempt hair absentmindedly. “You’re a terrible influence, James. I’ll get Moony to shout at you on Monday. _Poppy and Minnie say hello and to tell dad that they’re not impressed with my behaviour_ – ha! _Dumbledore is as weird and awesome as you said. Apparently, if we go to someplace in the castle (yes, inside of it, not the Forbidden Forest), we’re gonna die. I’m gonna try and convince Ron to go with me_ – of course he would. If our son gets killed, it’s on you, just a heads-up – _and maybe some other kids. The other Gryffindors in my year seem very nice, one in particular sounds very interesting. He’s called –_ dammit!”

                “What a peculiar name,” James said.

                “This isn’t a joke,” Lily said, straightening up. “It’s Neville Longbottom. Neville Longbottom is in the same House as our son.”

                James stayed silent for a moment, his good mood gone. He couldn’t see the details of Lily’s face, but he wasn’t sure he could have deciphered it even if he had.

                “It was always a possibility,” he said at last.

                “Dammit,” she repeated. “I can’t– “ She gestured to her face. “I need to go to work. I can’t think in here.”

                “This hasn’t got anything to do with your work,” James protested.

                “Well, _obviously_ , it does, or I would be able to think straight!”

                She let her face drop in her hands and shrugged his hand off when he tried to rub her back.

                “The spell is linking it to… You-Know-What,” she said at last, apologetically.

                “I know,” he said softly. “Just like yesterday’s – incident, right? That’s why you didn’t want to discuss it with the others.”

                She nodded.

                “I’m gonna tell them,” James said, still soft, but firm. “Alice was right, we’re unprepared. _They_ are, at least.”

                “Even us.” Her voice was muffled, either by the hands or the Tongue-Tying spell that kept her from divulging anything in relation with her work. “We couldn’t undo her curse fast enough, she could have killed the whole of us ten times before we pushed through it.“

                “It was exceptionally strong,” James tempered. “I encountered it a couple of times when I was in Bosnia, and I was able to counter it by myself in less than twenty seconds – I didn’t know it could be this powerful.”

                “We didn’t know _she_ was this powerful,” Lily corrected, speaking freely again. Apparently, Alice Longbottom’s strength wasn’t one of the things Unspeakables experimented on – James filed that information in the corner of his mind that was dedicated to figuring out what his wife’s job was about. After almost eight years, he was starting to have a pretty accurate idea. “But we should have prepared for more powerful versions of…” She stopped abruptly, thought for a while, then finished with caution: “these kinds of spells.”

                “In my defence, I thought this particular one was powerful enough. It didn’t cross my mind that it could be even more.”

                “Yeah, we definitely underestimated the… Merlin!” She grunted, frustrated. ”I need to find a way around this _bloody_ spell.”

                “I get the general idea,” he reassured her. “We’ll talk about it when you figure out what’s the loophole – don’t glare like that, there’s _always_ a loophole. Change of subject: Neville. I know you can’t talk about why you’re, um, _unhappy_ of him being in Gryffindor as well, but can we talk about how we’re going to handle that?”

                “That one’s easy. We need to tell Harry to stay the hell away from him.”

                “Don’t act like you don’t know our son, Lils – tell him that and Neville will be his second new best friend by the end of – oh.”

                Lily smiled sadly.

                “Why?” he asked.

                She shook her head with the usual gesture to her face.

                “That’s becoming a real _frigging_ problem,” he said, exasperated. He might like plotting, but plotting alongside someone who couldn’t tell you what the goal of the plotting was…

                Well, he’d just have to figure it out. And he wouldn’t be alone in doing so anymore – not including his best friends sooner had been a stupid mistake. Alice was right, they had gotten too comfortable.

                “April will snoop around,” Lily said. “About yesterday. We will tell her what Harry has probably already guessed – or will guess soon enough. She’ll snoop around for more, and we’ll let Moony handle it. After you…”

                “After I’ve told him,” James completed when she was unable to do so. She didn’t nod, but she didn’t refute it either.

                Yeah, that was getting too complicated for him to handle. Time to bring the Marauders back together again.

                Lily sighed and went back to reading the letter.

                “ _Neville Longbottom. I have a feeling he’s related to the woman from the platform, not that you’d know anything about that of course, you’d have told me –_ smart mouth. _He’s a bit stand-offish but he’s been nice so far. He’s pretty good friends already with two other Gryffindors, Hermione Granger and Dean Thomas_ – rings any bells?”

                James shook his head.

                “ _– who he was in the train with. The other boy in our year is called Seamus Finnigan and he looks great as well. There are only two other girls, I don’t remember their names but they don’t look very interesting. Draco’s got two bodyguards, by the way, Crabbe and Goyle, but they’re crappy because they let Ron beat him up…_ I don’t even know what to make of this.”

                The sky was starting to lighten up now, but they didn’t notice.

                “ _I think that’s all. Oh, and the new Defence Professor looks like he’s the villain from some children’s book. His name is…_ ”

                She froze again.

                “What is it?” James asked.

                She didn’t answer, her hands clutching and crumpling the parchment, and he took it from her gently, squinting at the words to try and make sense of them.

                “ _His name is Severus Snape_ ,” Lily said blankly.

                He kept his eyes carefully down on the letter.

                “You’re kidding me,” was the only thing he managed to squeeze out of his throat.

                It earned him no answer.

                “It’s okay,” he lied. “Lils, I know it’s a lot of things to process at once…”

                “Put some clothes on and wake April,” she answered inaudibly. “I’ll Floo Sirius and Remus to wake them up and leave her there, and then we’re Flooing to Hogwarts and asking Dumbledore what the hell is wrong with him.”

                He obeyed.

                April was even harder to wake than her mother, so he just hauled her up in his arms and walked down the stairs to the living-room – where he found both his wand and his glasses waiting for him on the chimneypiece. Lily was already gone, and he followed after her in a blaze of green flames, his daughter’s face pressed against his shoulder.

                “Hi,” he said when they got out of Sirius and Moony’s chimney. Both men were up, still in their pyjamas, wands in hand and wild looks on their faces.

                “What happened?” Moony asked, hurrying to relieve him from April’s weight and take her in his own arms. James didn’t feel relieved at all, but he let her go without opposing resistance.

                “We don’t have time,” Lily answered when he failed to find the words to explain. She seemed to have regained some of her composure – at least her voice was steady. “Sirius, can you go to the Department of Mysteries before you check in at the Aurors’ office, and tell them I won’t be able to make it this morning?”

                “It’s Sunday,” Sirius said, bewildered. “You and I don’t work on Sundays, Lils.”

                “Oh.”

                She rubbed her face and shook herself.

                “Right. Sorry. I – we’ll be back in a couple of hours. Probably. Thank you.”

                She turned around, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, stepped into the fireplace, said “Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts” and disappeared.

                James looked at his dishevelled best friends, their wide eyes and their pallor and their raised wands and the way Moony was holding April tight with just one arm. They looked like they had been taken back ten years ago, in the middle of the war, and to be honest, he kind of felt that way too, even though he knew it was not like that. He opened his mouth, then closed it.

                “It’s not like that,” he said, and when the only thing that answered him was more shocked silence, he turned on his heel and Flooed away.

*

                The fire died right after that, and they both stayed stupidly frozen in place, which was the worst possible reaction in a crisis but they just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of horror. Remus was the first to come back to his senses, grounding himself in the weight of the girl in his arms – it had been years since he’d held her that way, she was too big for that now.

                “Get Peter and Mrs Pettigrew,” he said, turning to Sirius. “And – our families. Just send them an owl or Floo them or something. Please.”

                “Alright,” Sirius answered, still unmoving.

                “I’ll put April in Effy’s room.”

                “Alright,” he repeated, and then, finally, shook himself. “Alright. Yes. Floo. I’ll Floo Pete first.”

Remus nodded and went up the stairs, going through Effy’s open door and lowering April gently into the bed, next to the smaller girl. He sat down on the mattress, brushing his fingers against Effy’s hair, and exhaled softly as some of the tension left his body. _It’s not like that_ , James had said. And they hadn’t told them to stay at home. It wasn’t war returning. It was some minor incident, nothing more, and just because it affected James and Lily didn’t mean it would affect them. He sighed and stood up again, leaving the room with the door open. Sirius would want to check on his daughter when he returned.

                He went back down to the living-room, and didn’t have to wait long for the flames of the reignited fire to burst green again. Andromeda came out first, a worried frown on her face, but she lit up a little when she saw him.

                “Hello, dear,” she said, embracing him firmly as Ted stepped out of the fireplace. “Thank you for thinking of us.”

                “I might have overreacted,” he apologised, “but I think we’ll all feel better knowing where you are. Good morning Ted.”

                They shook hands and turned back when Nymphadora fell out of the chimney.

                “Merlin’s balls in a twister!” she swore, getting herself off the floor and dusting her robes. “Bloody Floo always spits me out – sorry Mom. Hey, wotcher Remus!”

                She eyed him appreciatively and winked. “Nice peejays.”

                He blushed a little and excused himself. It didn’t take him more than five minutes to get changed, but when he got back, the living-room was crowded. Sirius had gotten back with Peter and Peter’s girlfriend Mary, his mom, Remus’s dad Lyall, Reese from the Aurors office, and Lily’s best friends Gus, Beth and Emma. Tonks had apparently decided it was a good idea to also invite her brand new mentor, Mad-Eye Moody, to the party, and the old Auror was berating Sirius to milk out every information he had on the emergency – that is to say, none – when the doorbell rang and everyone froze.

 _It’s not like that,_ Remus told himself, but he still grabbed the arm of the nearest person – who turned out to be Ted, and the man patted his hand awkwardly.

                “Death-Eaters don’t ring or knock,” he said in an attempt to comfort him.

_But Alice might._

                “I’ll get it,” Sirius said, but he was shoved out of the way by Mad-Eye.

                “You and Reese cover me,” he snapped. “Everybody else, out of the shooting range from the door.”

                A forest of wands were out in a matter of seconds, and they all retreated towards the stairs – even Tonks, who was looking pretty sulky at being relegated with the civilians even though she had only been in training for a couple of weeks.

                “No-one makes a sound,” Moody ordered when the bell rang a second time.

                He moved forward cautiously, wand trained on the handle.

                “On my count,” he grunted. “One… two…” He opened the door with a flick of the wrist.

                And old Bathilda Bagshot, the Potters neighbour from down the street, let out a very undignified yelp, her basketful of scones falling to the floor.

                “What are you _doing_ here?” Sirius gasped, not lowering his wand.

                Mad-Eye performed a dozen of Charms to make sure she was who they thought she was before letting her answer that question and let the younger Aurors help her pick up the pastries.

                “That’s no way to welcome an old lady,” she said, trembling. “Shame on you, young man. I was just bringing scones for tea.”

                Moody’s face at being called a young man was priceless, but Sirius somehow managed not to laugh. “It’s six in the morning, Batty,” he said affectionately. “Tea time is a long time away.”

                “Is it?” she asked distractedly, entering the hallway. “Oh, deary me, what a crowd. Are we celebrating? Isn’t that little Pete over there?”

                ‘Little Pete’ was about as happy with his nickname as Moody had been about his, but he still came to take the basket from her hands.

                “Good morning, Batty,” he said. “Are those scones?”

                “I think so, yes,” the old woman said cheerfully. “They certainly do look like scones, don’t they?”

                “They do. I’m sure we can have them for breakfast, right Moony?”

                Remus gave him a bewildered look, and Peter shrugged.

                “I’m not gonna sit here and do nothing and worry myself sick all day. Padfoot, I requisition your kitchen and your help, we’re making breakfast for everyone. Moony… you’re crap at everything involving food, but Batty likes you, so you can come with.”

                And that’s how the three grown men escaped the crowded living-room and found themselves surrounded by kitchen utensils and more ingredients than Remus had ever known they owned.

                “What happened?” Peter asked as soon as they were out of ear’s reach. “Is You-Know-Who back? Is it war again?”

                He was trembling slightly, and Remus shook his head.

                “No,” he said.

                “We don’t know,” Sirius corrected.

                “James said it wasn’t.”

                “He didn’t say _what_ wasn’t.”

                Remus glared at him and Sirius busied himself with the eggs he was mixing. Meanwhile, Bathilda had taken a seat at the table and was humming a nursery rhyme to herself. She was embroidering a handkerchief with complicated symbols that didn’t look like any language he’d ever seen before.

                “Are we sure it _isn’t_ like that?” Peter whispered after a minute. “Is it a coincidence that James and Lily freak out for who knows what reason just the day after we meet Alice for the first time in…”

                “Almost ten years,” Sirius completed darkly.

                “She was there to escort her son,” Remus contradicted. “That was a completely logical, foreseeable, reason to be back.”

                “Yes, and foreseeable by who else, do you think?” Peter snapped. “There’s still a price on her head among the Death-Eaters.”

                “They haven’t been active for years,” Sirius objected.

                “And her return isn’t the perfect reason to start being active again?”

                “Peter,” Remus chided him. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

                “ _Logical_ conclusions,” Peter said, but he didn’t say anything else.

                The truth was that he was right about what he said, and _righter_ about what he didn’t, what they hadn’t talked about because James and Lily had asked them not to.

                And even if you left that out. There _was_ a price on Alice’s head, she and her son were obvious targets for Death-Eaters – but on the other hand, Alice had put a price on each and every Death-Eater’s head after her husband’s murder, ten years ago. Her killing spree had culminated during the Hogwarts Massacre, when a handful of Voldemort’s most faithful servants, led by Bellatrix Lestrange, had attacked the castle. The casualties had been horrendous, until Alice had gotten there – and then she had basically wiped out those of her opponents who didn’t manage to Disapparate in time. There were a lot of rumours about what happened afterwards, but the only certainty was that Dumbledore had somehow managed to reason with her, and calm her down. The next morning, she had delivered the infamous speech that had stopped the celebrations all over the country, and then she had disappeared, along with her son. Not a letter, not a goodbye – just completely vanished from the surface of the Earth. Never to be heard of again. Why they hadn’t all assumed she had died was anybody’s guess.

                And then of course, yesterday had happened.

 

*

 

                Effy had somehow found her way back at Lily’s arm, and Pete and James were talking about some new recipe for the Pettigrews’ restaurant that sounded unconventional enough to have Remus convinced that Prongs was the one who had come up with it. Harry and April had disappeared with the cart, and he was admittedly worried once again, which Sirius of course made fun of, so they were bickering as usual when he noticed a blonde woman heading towards them. He had noticed because there was something funny about the way she walked, and although she was only about ten metres away, he wasn’t able to pinpoint it; but then she got closer, and he realised she had a very slight limp, and used a walking stick, although she probably wasn’t much older than them. It wasn’t until she was standing directly in front of them all that they had stopped talking, and Sirius was the first one to recognise her. He had grabbed Remus’s forearm with one hand and started to draw his wand with the other one, but the woman had just shaken her head no, casually, and Remus had felt his muscles tighten as he froze in place – not completely frozen, but slowed down enough that he wouldn’t be able to completely turn around if he had a minute to spare. Sirius’s grab was still strong on his arm, and he was pretty sure that whatever spell she had used, she had done so on the whole group. His heart was beating very slowly although he was panicking, and he tried very hard to tell Harry and April to _stay away_ , wherever they were, although unfortunately he was no Legilimens and they couldn’t hear him.

                “Fancy seeing you here,” she said, and only then had he finally understood who was standing in front of them, holding them in her power. Her voice was much the same as the last time he had heard it, if only a bit raspier, like she hadn’t been using it much lately. Her tone was cold and sharp. Physically, she didn’t even look ten years older, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognised her sooner. Her hair was much longer, golden and wavy, but she had the same bright blue eyes, and the same smirk at the corner of her mouth.

                “I take it little Harry is headed to Hogwarts too? How time flies.”

 _Do something,_ Remus thought desperately at his friends – how did Sirius not know the counter spell? And if it was some kind of obscure, Dark magic, how did _Lily_ not know it? Or even James – he’d been Curse-breaker for a while, back when April was still a baby, one of them _ought to know_ –

                But Remus hadn’t supernaturally developed a talent for Legilimency in the last couple of minutes, and if one of his friends knew how to undo the spell, they were taking their sweet time.

                “You said once,” Alice continued, looking directly at Lily, “to come to you if I needed anything. So this is what I need. I need you to remember the prophecy” – _what prophecy?_ – “and act accordingly. Step up your game, all of you. If I can attack you in the middle of King’s Cross without anyone realising I am doing it, and incapacitate you long enough to kill you all, so can he. And if you’re not able to protect yourselves, you’re not able to protect your son.”

                Somewhere in Remus’s brain, all of the alarms were going off.

                “And if you can’t protect your son, you can’t teach him how to protect himself. Get your shit together.”

                And just when he thought the situation couldn’t get worse, Harry and April had come back, and Alice’s focus had left them completely as she turned to them. The spell weakened as she did so, but not enough – not _nearly_ enough – for him to shield the children with his body, or curse her, or do _something_ to stop what happened next.

 

*

 

                A day later, Remus still didn’t understand what, exactly, had happened next; only that Alice had appeared more impressed by the children’s reaction than their own. He was shaken out of his day dreaming by a tug on his sleeve, and lowered his eyes to Bathilda’s smiley face.

                “There,” she said, giving him the handkerchief. “It’s done.”

                “Thank you Mrs. Bagshot,” he said. “It’s very pretty.”

                But he didn’t manage to smile. He could tell himself and his friends what he wanted, but Alice was back. And apparently, she had brought the war back with her.


	6. Back to the war - A decade earlier

                Eyelids fluttered. Alice woke up.

                A machine was beeping quietly somewhere next to her. The room was warm, but not too hot. The ceiling was a sandy yellow colour, maybe a shade lighter than her hair. The mattress was comfortable.

                She was missing a leg.

                Her thoughts were hazy and she didn’t know where she was, or what had brought her there, but one thing she knew was that – her right leg wasn’t there. She could still feel her hip, and her upper thigh – _a cold hand with skeletal fingers wandering against her skin_ – and then nothing. Prickling maybe. The ghost of an itch – she remembered what Alastor had told her about phantom limbs. How very much like him she was, Alice thought. Everyday more like him.

                She was alone in the room, she knew without looking around. A room which wasn’t in St-Mungos – they didn’t have beeping machines over there. A Muggle hospital, then. Muggles must have found her, injured, and treated her – cut off her leg. Such bad luck. St-Mungos probably would have been able to save it. And they would have known to contact Frank – the poor lad must be going crazy with worry, not knowing where she was.

                It was day outside, a sunny one too. Not very common at this time of the year, it was a shame she couldn’t enjoy it. Maybe they would let her out to enjoy the weather for a bit, on one of these chairs with wheels she had seen in the streets. She didn’t feel strong enough for crutches yet – the surgery must have taken place not long ago. An amputation was sure to drain you of energy – and blood, probably. But surely they had replaced it with donated blood, Muggles did that. They gave blood of strangers to other people when they’d lost too much. Did it mean her blood wasn’t pure anymore? Or magical? Maybe she’d lost her magic, and that was why she was feeling so out of it.

                She closed her eyes and darkness surrounded her. Much more darkness than she was used to. Radiating from her stump. Growing like vines around her bones, spreading like oil inside her veins.

                A sunny day, she thought. How odd.

 

                “Hey.”

                She woke up again, and sat up too fast, almost falling on her side with the sudden dizziness and imbalance because of her –

                “Holy _shit_!”

                Strong hands steadied her as she grasped what was left of her right leg.

                “No,” she said. “No no _no!_ ”

                She tried to rip the sheets off to see, to understand, to deny what her senses were telling her, but the same strong hands stopped her. She looked up and it wasn’t Frank. She stopped struggling.

                James Potter let go of her and sat back on the chair by her bed. He was deadly pale, and his eyes were red and puffy.

                “No,” she repeated, her eyes wide. “What are _you_ doing here? Where is Frank?”

                She searched her memories but there was nothing, nothing but a cold hand on her hip and horrendous pain in her leg and –

                She looked back down. The sheets were flat next to her left leg, right where the other one was supposed to be. Her hands started shaking.

                “You should lie back down,” James said tentatively.

                She ignored him, looking at the absence under the sheets. Looking at the stump, and the gooey darkness emanating from it, reaching out to her fear. A shiver went through her and she palmed at the beginning of her thigh, almost gently, not daring to come close to the sore end.

                “I’m not okay,” she said suddenly. “I am completely not okay right now Potter, and I want you to go away and fetch Frank because I _bloody need my husband right now_ , okay, because there’s only one leg under these sheets and that’s not alright, that’s not alright _at all_ and just _please_ go away and get him _please_ –“

She clutched her thigh so tight she let out a muffled scream, and James jumped back up, taking her hands away from her leg – her _stump_ – and hugging her close.

                “I’m sorry, Al,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

                “I don’t understand a word that’s coming out of your mouth!” she cried, trying to push him away. “I want you _gone_! I want my husband!” But he only held her tighter and kept on repeating “I’m sorry”.

                “Stop saying that,” she whimpered, “stop saying that you stupid git, why would you _say_ that?”

                “He’s dead,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. He’s dead, he… he was killed. He’s dead, Alice. He’s dead.”

                “SHUT UP!”

                Her voice was horribly high.

                “SHUT UP, you _liar_ , let me GO, I’LL KILL YOU JAMES FUCKING POTTER I’ll _kill_ you if you don’t _let go_ of me! FRANK! FRANK!”

                How come no-one was rushing in? How come they didn’t jab her in the arm with their bloody muggle needles and make the pain go away? How come this fucker was still holding her in his arms, so tightly she couldn’t move, why was her face so wet, why was her husband not here, how could he not be here, how could he not be _anywhere_ how could he never be there again–

                “Frank,” she sobbed, “I need him, James – please, _please,_ oh Merlin, I’ll do anything!”

                “I’m sorry,” the young man repeated in a broken voice. “I would, you know I would, but I can’t bring him back. He can’t be brought back. I’m so, _so_ sorry, Alice, I’m sorry...”

                She closed her eyes. Tears were still leaking from them, somehow, without her consent, but she didn’t care. James’s voice faded away, and soon the only thing she felt was the tightness of his arms around her chest and his bony shoulder pressing against her cheek. And the pain radiating from her stump. Dark. Empty. Easier to deal with than the one that was tearing into her lungs.

                She jumped right into it.

 

                Without the emotional barrier holding them back, the memory flooded her mind.

                Frank was upstairs, singing Neville to sleep. She was writing a letter to her sister-in-law in the kitchen, weighing the words and trying to find a way to make them sound right, but she already had ten inches of parchment of “please help us” or “we need a safer place” or “hey we’ve been thinking about moving in with you” and other versions of it. She was scratching her latest sentence like she had the others, when the hallway door had exploded. She was on her feet and out in the corridor almost instantly, wand in hand and facing her worse nightmare: the dark silhouette of Lord Voldemort in the hallway of her home.

                There had been no words exchanged. She knew she didn’t stand a chance – all she could hope to do was slow him down while, hopefully, Frank and Neville found a way to escape. It was the first time she was duelling him one-on-one, and she was quickly overwhelmed, defecting the curses at the very last fraction of second, stumbling back until her back hit the wall and Voldemort’s wand was on her throat.

                He had spoken, then.

                “Foolish girl. You could have lived. You could have joined me. Such a waste of pure blood and raw talent… I could have taught you…”

                She’d spit in his face.

                He’d stabbed her leg with a sharp object, and the pain had been horrendous, as the Dark object started to suck on her magic and replace it with its own. Her leg had given up under her, and she’d slid down the wall. Her last vision had been of the sweeping cape of the Dark Lord, sliding up the stairs. Her last thought had been for her husband and son. Her last spell had been a plea for help.

 

*** About 3500 km away ***

 

                Kate woke up so suddenly she almost fell out of bed. Before she registered what was happening, her hand had shot towards the nightstand, grabby fingers searching for the wand – there. Heart hammering, she pointed the wooden stick to the corner of the room by the door.

                “What’s that?” asked a voice at her side, feverish.

                “I– I don’t know.”

                She relaxed slightly when she realised her wife was pointing her own wand at the ball of silvery light floating half a meter above the floor. Eleni was much better at all things magic than she had ever been.

                The dark-skinned woman stood up carefully and walked around the bed to get a better view. The ball didn’t move. It was changing though, abstract volutes reaching in and out but never touching them, never taking any recognisable form.

                “It looks like…”

                “A Patronus,” Eleni completed.

                “Oh no.”

                “Whose?”

                They were both thinking it, really.

                “Your ex-husband?” Kate suggested hopefully.

                “His Patronus is corporeal.”

                “Then...”

                “Your brother,” Eleni said. “Or his wife.”

                Kate took a deep breath and nodded. Their Patronuses were corporeal too, but the probability was considerably higher that Alice and Frank would find themselves in a situation where they needed to cast a full-bodied Patronus – and fail to do so. For one thing, Stephanos lived peacefully in Athens, a mere 300 kilometres away – not in the civil war that had been ravaging England for years. And perhaps more importantly, he was neither an Auror, nor a member of a secret resistance society.

                Eleni was already throwing some clothes at her, when the Patronus suddenly disappeared. They both froze in the middle of dressing up.

                “Oh Merlin,” Kate mouthed.

                “Get dressed,” her wife said hurriedly, her accent suddenly thick with worry. “I’ll check on Stephanos first.”

                “No, wait–“

                But there was a CRACK and the room was empty.

                Kate got up like an automat, cold sweat crawling on her skin. It didn’t make any sense. Why would her brother or his wife send _her_ a Patronus, of all people? Even though the emergency Portkey would take them to England as quickly as magically possible, she wasn’t a fighter. She never had been. She hadn’t even gotten a passing grade in her Defence Against the Dark Arts’ OWL!

                The clothes Eleni had thrown her were the warmest they had, she remarked hazily as she tumbled down the stairs and into the kitchen. It would most likely be chilly in her homeland, at this time of the year – hopefully they would be enough to block out the cold.

                Shoes. Cloak. What else – she had her wand. It would be mostly useless. She opened a drawer and picked a kitchen knife – there. Wizards never expected physical weapons. She made a poor job of covering the blade with an Enveloping spell to avoid cutting herself, and Eleni Apparated back just as she pocketed it.

                “Not him,” she said shortly.

                She was concealing her relief – her son Nikias was at his dad’s for the week.

                Kate took a shaky breath, trying to get a hold of herself. There was no reason to panic. They didn’t know what had happened, right? She was probably making a mountain out of a molehill.

                Eleni directed her wand at the moving picture of Kate’s brother hanging on the wall.

                “ _Portus_ ,” she said.

                The picture started glowing blue, and Kate counted the fifteen seconds necessary to activate the Portkey. Eleni tied her black, frizzy hair in a bun she knew would crumble before they’d even arrive, and patted her arm soothingly.

                “Now,” the English woman croaked when she reached fifteen, her hands shaking slightly.

                They both put their forefingers on the picture, and for a moment, nothing happened. But then she felt the familiar hook pulling her forwards, and all of a sudden they were spinning madly across Europe. A trip this long was bound to make them sick, and when, after ten very long minutes, there was a floor under their feet again, they rushed to the kitchen sink.

                “Mother is going to kill me,” Kate mumbled as she washed her mouth.

                “She doesn’t have to know.”

                Eleni Vanished the remains of their act of vandalism and nodded towards the stairs.

                “The bedrooms are on the first floor, yes?”

                Kate stumbled after her.

                “MOTHER?” she called out. “FATHER? Is anyone here?”

                The words echoed in the silence of the house, and they started opening the doors on every floor, only to find the beds undone and the house empty. Not even the House-Elves responded to Kate’s calls – not that they ever had anyway – and panic started overwhelming her slowly. They looked around the house a second time, but the only thing they found was the old family Kneazle pacing back and forth in the attic, and he fled as soon as they opened the door.

                “Alright,” Eleni said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Where do we go next? Do you know where they live?”

                “They’re under the Fidelius Charm,” Kate moaned, febrile. “We wouldn’t be able to find the house even if we were standing right in front of it. Oh, Merlin…!”

                “Calm down,” Eleni ordered, while they got back down the stairs. “Think. Where else could they be? Who could know something about them?”

                “I don’t know,” Kate said, shaking her head in dismay. “I’ve been gone for too long. I don’t know any of their friends, I don’t know –“

                She stopped in her tracks, and Eleni looked at her interrogatively.

                “The hospital,” she said reluctantly. “If they have been hurt, they’re probably at St-Mungo’s.”

                They stared at each other, unmoving, as a whole other problem emerged in their minds.

                Eleni had never been to St-Mungo’s – Kate wasn’t even sure she had heard about it before tonight. And since you could neither Apparate, nor produce a Porkey to an unknown destination, she wasn’t able to take them there.

                Kate, on the other hand, had been to the Hospital a couple of times. The thing was, she had never had enough magical power to Apparate or make a Portkey.

                St-Mungo’s was in London.

                They were in the middle of Lancashire.

 

                In other terms, they were stuck.

 

*

 

                She had always hated flying. She had learnt though, as a teenager, because of her baby brother’s relentless begging. She had never been able to refuse him anything. What Franklin wanted, Katherine granted, their father used to say fondly, and it was true. She’d learned to play Quidditch and overcame her fear of heights for him, because he wanted to be on the team and he needed someone to practise with. She had hated it the first few days, disliked it the rest of their time in school, and now, as Eleni and she made their way towards the shack in the garden, she was glad to have at least that means of transportation. But the brooms were old, dusty, and not much faster than a car. They probably wouldn’t get them to London before dawn, and then whatever emergency they had been contacted for would have passed.

                She thought of her brother’s round face and crooked smile while retrieving the brooms from the shack, and silently handing one to Eleni. She thought of his growth spurt in fourth year, when he’d suddenly become much taller than her and everybody else in the castle. She thought of how, as skinny and spiderlike as he was at the time, he had never ceased to be the biggest goofball she knew. She thought of the adult he’d become, the Auror, the husband, the father.

                The adrenaline was still rushing through her veins, demanding action, but it would only get a long, cold and humid flight through the English night sky.

                “Let’s go,” she said lowly.

                Eleni Disillusioned the both of them before they got on the brooms, and Kate closed her eyes before she kicked the ground. That had always been the worse part, pretending not to feel sick as nothing but a thin, old and uncomfortable broomstick was lifting her from the ground, barely keeping her from falling to her death. Her fingers gripping the handle, she forced her eyes back open, and studied the position of the stars before starting south, Eleni trailing her.

                _Squib_ , whispered the wind in her ears, sounding like her mother’s voice. _Incompetent, useless Squib_.

                She wasn’t a Squib. They had made her take the test, after a few weeks at Hogwarts, because of the extreme difficulties she was having. On the 0 to 10 Magical Intensity Scale, with 0 as Squib, 5 as average and 10 as – basically – Dumbledore, she had gotten a 2. Well, a 1.8, really, but they had been nice enough to round it up.

                Her mother had started ignoring her after that, and Kate had worked her butt off to get to the average level of the students around her – which she had succeeded in doing until the beginning of her fourth year, when the difficulty of the curriculum had increased significantly due to the approaching OWLs, and her theoretical knowledge no longer made up for her lack of magical power. It wasn’t like her efforts had had any effects on her relationship with her mother anyway; the 1.8, had been the beginning of the end.

                Well, of course, she had then moved to Greece instead of entering the resistance in England, and married a woman. Augusta had never even acknowledged her again after receiving the wedding invitation.

                _Useless_ , the wind said again, and for the first time in years, she believed it. Her magicless-ness hadn’t really bothered her once she had graduated from Hogwarts – and even then, her NEWTs classes being mostly theoretical, she had gotten four Os out of seven. Her disability was never an actual problem – and in places where it was, she had learned to work around it. But tonight – today – this morning – whatever – her brother needed her, and she was completely helpless.

                Useless.

                Tears prickled in her eyes as she cursed whichever god was responsible for her misfortune. She didn’t know how long they had been flying for, but although the stars’ and moon’s emplacements had moved around a bit, there was no sign of an incoming dawn. She didn’t even know what time it was, here. It had been around midnight when the Patronus had appeared… take two hours for the time difference, approximately, add maybe an hour since they had left Greece… How long did the Portkey take?

 _Oh, dammit_ , she thought, disheartened. _It’s not even 1am yet._

                Her fingers were sore from the cold and from the tight grip they had on the broom, and her teeth were clattering uncontrollably – despite their warmth, her clothes weren’t appropriate for the English autumn. A quick glance to her left revealed that Eleni wasn’t in a much better state. She wasn’t used to the weather, but Kate knew no complaint would pass her lips, and she tried drawing comfort and courage from that. She could do it, she told herself, focusing back on the horizon. Only four more hours to go.

 

                It was still night-time when they arrived in London. They landed by the hospital, their legs completely numb and shaking hard from the freezing cold they had been exposed to for five and a half hours – Kate counted. They were also still wet from the heavy rains they had flown across around Leicester. The air almost felt warm now that they were back on the ground, and they staggered toward the building hiding the Hospital, leaving their Disillusioned brooms in the corner of the empty street. As they went through the window of the fake shop, Kate felt Eleni take her hand and she gave it a weak squeeze.

                The hall was much better lit than the streets outside, and they blinked rapidly as their eyes adjusted to the luminosity. Despite the hour, there were a lot of people milling about, chatting excitedly. Kate looked around, disconcerted – the few times she had come back to England since You-Know-Who had taken over, everyone had been particularly subdued and suspicious.

                The couple made their way to the receptionist, who finished attending an old lady and turned to them with a bright smile.

                “Good morning!” she exclaimed.

                Kate blinked again.

                “Uh, g–good morning,” she stammered. “I was just– I was wondering if anybody named Longbottom was admitted tonight?”

                _Please say no_ , she silently prayed. _Please just say no._ Of course, if the woman did say no, they would be back to square one, with no idea where to turn.

                But the receptionist looked at her dubiously, her smile a little less bright.

                “Who asks?” she inquired.

                “Katherine Longbottom,” Kate said, and Eleni’s hand squeezed hers firmly.

                “Wand please?”

                Oh, Merlin. There was someone named Longbottom in the building. There had to be. Why act like that if there wasn’t? She felt numb. Her heart was beating so fast that she should be filled with adrenaline, but whether it was because of the sudden change of temperature or the dread, her skin was prickling and her limbs were weak. She handed the wand to the woman, who checked it quickly, and when her identity was confirmed, the smile totally disappeared.

                “Who is this?” she asked again, pointing at Eleni.

                “My wife,” Kate said in a brittle voice.

                The receptionist now looked very sorry.

                “Fourth floor,” she said. “Spell damage.”

                Kate felt her legs wobble. _Who is it?_ she thought.

                “How bad is it?” she asked instead.

                The woman looked even more sorry and Kate felt like she was going to cry. _Who is it?_ she thought again. _Please don’t let it be Frank. Who is it?_

                She desperately wanted to ask, but it felt like words had deserted her, so she just stood there, motionless. The receptionist looked more and more uncomfortable by the second, but she said nothing either.

                “Kate,” Eleni whispered.

                Kate turned her head to her wife.

                “We’ve come a long way,” she said. “There are only four floors to climb.”

                She was right, of course. What was she doing, wasting time like that, when they had come all the way from Lancashire – what was she saying, all the way from _Greece_ , although it hadn’t been the longest part of the journey – and there now were only four floors of distance – or just another minute – before she would finally find out what happened.

                Well maybe she didn’t want to know what happened. Maybe this bloody receptionist had freaked her out with her stupid sorry look. Maybe…

                Kate turned around, pulling Eleni behind her as she walked toward the elevator.

 _Who is it?_ she thought.

 

*

 

                “ _Fourth floor, Spell Damage._ ”

                *TING*

                The elevator’s doors opened. The corridor was stretching in front of them, almost empty, lighted up by the comforting bubble-lights that were floating around the whole hospital.

                Kate didn’t feel comforted at all.

                They were walking down the corridor now, looking around but the doors only had numbers on them, no names.

                “Excuse me?”

                An old woman with Healer’s robes and a kind voice was talking to them.

                “Is one of you Katherine Longbottom?”

                The receptionist must have called someone to welcome them.

                “She is,” Eleni said when Kate’s mouth refused to reply.

                It was ridiculous, really. They had come all the way over here, suffered the worse five hours of her life in the freezing cold and rain, and now the only thing she wanted to do was run away.

                “I am Healer Wyatt,” the woman said. “How were you informed?”

                Once again, Kate’s mouth refused to cooperate. She realised her wife was squeezing her hand a bit too strongly, but she was too numb to react.

                She wondered if she was about to pass out.

                “We weren’t,” Eleni said. “Someone sent a Patronus to us, but it wasn’t corporeal and didn’t say anything. We supposed Kate’s family had sent it, because uh– well anyway, when we Apparated to their house, it was empty. That’s when Kate thought about St Mungo’s…”

                Her voice died out. The old Healer looked uncomfortable too now, obviously unwilling to be the one to break the news to them. But she breathed in deeply, and said:

                “I am very sorry to inform you that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked Frank and Alice Longbottom’s house earlier tonight.”

                Kate’s heart stopped beating and her hand went limp, slipping through Eleni’s fingers. Her wife grabbed her before her legs gave way, and she somehow managed to remain standing, but air wasn’t entering her lungs anymore.

                They were dead. Her brother was dead. His wife was dead. His son – her nephew – was dead. All dead.

                Her legs started shaking uncontrollably, and the Healer had to help Eleni sit her down on the floor.

                “I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “Your brother did not survive.”

                “No,” she gasped, even though she knew, she _knew_ , she had known ever since the damned Patronus had disappeared from her room.

                “You should know that somehow, Alice managed to defeat You-Know-Who,” the Healer said in a soothing tone. “He has disappeared, and his followers are in disarray.”

                Kate’s head was in disarray. She wanted to go back home. She wanted the woman to shut the hell up, she wanted to go back to sleep in her room, in her bed, and pretend nothing had happened. Pretend they were still alive. Pretend she would hear Frankie’s laugh again. Feel him engulf her in those big bear hugs he loved way too much for the sake of her spine.

                “She’s a National Hero, her name is on everybody’s lips. Unfortunately, she was very seriously injured, but we’re doing absolutely everything in our power to keep her alive.” That last part was probably meant to be comforting. Or something. “Your nephew has apparently sustained a light blow to the head, but there was nothing serious and once we stopped the bleeding, he was sent home with your mother.”

                It was a relief. That they had survived. Right? Her sister-in-law might be dead by morning, but at least Neville survived. They had survived.

                The Healer was still blabbering about Alice’s injuries, which for some reason might ask for a transfer to a Muggle hospital, but Kate wasn’t listening anymore. There was a buzzing sound in her ears, and a buzzy feeling in her extremities.

                Good for Alice, she thought. Good for Neville. Good for the whole bloody country if Voldemort was really gone.

                The edges of her vision were blurry, and she didn’t know if she was about to cry or faint. She didn’t care.

                Alice and Neville had survived, repeated that tiny voice in the back of her head. Hang on to that – but, as horrible as it may sound, she couldn’t have cared less about them. She hardly knew them. There was only one of the three that she really knew, and loved, and wanted alive right now.

                And it was the only one who had died.


End file.
